A Girl Named Annie
by Stained by His-Story
Summary: "I wanted to go back to that bliss, that childhood innocence I once knew so well." These chapters are snippets of Annie's life after she wins the 70th Annual Hunger Games...
1. Chp 1: Not Alone

**I do not own anything. All rights/characters/fictional universe belong to the original** **creator (in this case, Suzanne Collins).**

 **Annie's POV:**

I broke the surface, my head swimming. My body felt like rubber, and I was certain my very soul was about to break free of my body. The image of my fellow tribute being decapitated appeared everywhere. I closed my eyes, but the image still remained. No matter where I looked, I saw it—his blood, his fear, his lifeless eyes. He was the only one from District Four, so he was the closest thing to family I had here…and he was gone. Everyone was gone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the seventieth Hunger Games."

The announcer's words rang in my ears. I treaded in the water and felt something brush against my leg. Immediately, I pulled my legs up to my chest. _What horror awaits me now?_ A body popped up to the surface. Fear coursed through me, as I desperately swam away. The hovercraft whirred above me, tossing my wet hair across my face. They said I was a Victor, but I didn't feel like it. They said I was wonderful, a role model; I knew I was one, but not how they said I was. I was not the Victor they made me to be. I was the one that managed to survive unscathed. Inside, I knew I was broken. Worse than that, I was broken and alone.

 **Finnick's POV:**

I looked at her. I could see in her eyes her vulnerability, her fear, her disgust. I had done all I could for her. It was because of my insistent request that they flooded the Arena. I knew I had killed thirteen people to protect her, something I would have done anyway without regret.

I walked to the landing pad. The hovercraft landed. I heard Annie. She was screaming, crying. Then, a dead silence hung in the air, suffocating me.

The doors opened.

Annie sat inside, her body shaking, her hands covering her ears. A Capitol goon sat beside her, trying to calm her. Annoyed, I waved him off and knelt beside Annie.

"Hey," I whispered, gently taking her hands from her ears. She fought me, her eyes shut tightly. "Annie."

She stopped and looked at me, tears in her eyes. I knew she was too gentle, too innocent to bounce back from the games, or _appear_ to bounce back, as I had. I saw she was trembling and she didn't know what to do. Embarrassment and vulnerability were in her eyes. I did what I thought she needed. I held her close to me.

"It's okay. You're okay," I whispered. I felt her relax. She sobbed into my chest. My heart broke for her. I knew what she felt. I knew the pain, the guilt, the trauma. What I did not know was the innocence. She had not killed anyone. I had. I'd watched the life seep out of them as their blood stained the ground, like wine on carpet.

I decided, then and there, I would protect her.

 **Annie's POV:**

I shuddered in my bed. The darkness was smothering, but even in the dark, I could still see him—my fellow tribute, his eyes staring at me lifeless and void. Tears flowed as my breathing came in muffled, shuddering cries from my mouth, which I desperately tried to smother with my hands. I knew I would have to receive President Snow's crown and approval. All I wanted was to go back to how I was. That childhood innocence, that childish bliss I once knew so well. I could go through it, dance to their music, but I knew I could only push myself so far. I prayed and prayed, but no relief came to me.

I know I had fallen asleep, but when I awoke a scream was on my lips and darkness still met my eyes. Sobs escaped my mouth; something was happening to me. I normally did not allow myself to be as transparent or loud, but I found I could not—no matter how hard I tried—control it. I felt a fogginess descend upon me and I heard a voice screaming. When the fogginess lifted from my mind, I then realized the one screaming was me.

I heard footsteps running to my door. The door opened, and Finnick stood in the doorway, concern on his face.

"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice breathless.

I cried harder, my voice garbling in the back of my throat. What was my problem? I should be able to have a handle over myself, like I had before all this happened.

Finnick walked to the bed and sat down, wrapping his arms around me. His arms, though warm and strong, somehow felt hollow and distant. I inhaled in shuddering gasps, but found I was more calm now.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice quiet.

"Me too," he replied, his hand rhythmically stroking my hair.

"Thank you."

"For what?" I heard a smile in his voice.

"For coming." I moved away from him, then turned to look at him. "I, I'm going to get a drink."

He nodded. "I'll come with you."

We went to the kitchen. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water, licking my dry lips as I did. When I looked up I noticed Finnick was staring at me, an annoying smirk on his face.

"What?"

His eyes sparkled with mirth. "You just look pretty."

I smiled and looked away. Then, I went to the couch and sat down, my body feeling numb and void.

Finnick sat down beside me. "I know you're confused and you're suffering, but you aren't alone."

 _I feel all alone_. When I looked up at him, I felt the tears rush back into my eyes. I set the glass on the table and pulled my knees to my chest nervously. I exhaled a shaky breath. "What do you do when you can't sleep?" Surely he had a trick or two.

"I walk around and try to ignore my own thoughts."

"What do I do tomorrow?"

"You pretend that you aren't close enough to President Snow to kill him." There was an edge in his voice I had never heard before—an anger that laced it.

I covered my mouth with my fingers, but laughs still escaped.

He smiled at me. "Try to ignore everything that happened while you're up there, and pretend it doesn't matter."

"But it does." I blinked away the tears blurring my vision. "It does matter." Lungs aching, I struggled to take a breath. "It does matter!" I heard a voice—my own—screech in the stillness. Tumbling off the couch, I landed hard on my side, my hip hitting the corner of the metal table as I went down. I scooted away when I saw Finnick standing up and moving towards me. When he crouched down to my level, fear's death-like grip clutched at my throat.

It was him. The tribute who had killed my comrade.

"No—o," I managed to choke out, my muscles not responding to me when I told them to move. "Please! Get away!" I clawed at the air with one hand, the other covering my head. I curled up in a ball, shutting my eyes from the terror. Even if I couldn't get away, I didn't have to watch him kill me.

Out of the emptiness, warm but calloused hands gripped my arms and gently pulled me up. I opened my eyes. Mags. She gently planted a kiss on my forehead, then cut her gaze back to Finnick.

Instinctively, I followed her gaze. A scream escaped me when I saw the one who murdered my fellow tribute. I scrambled up, the hem of my gown getting caught on my own feet. Darkness pressed in close around me, crushing me. I wanted to be free. So free.

Cold light shone through the huge, floor-to-ceiling windows, casting an eerie glow upon the room. I ran to it, hoping the light would somehow ease the weight that was crushing me. I pressed myself against the cool glass, relishing the feeling of the cold against my skin. It felt like the sea.

I stared down at the street below. With the darkness, it seemed blurry, murky—just like the sea. Oh, if I could just break the glass and dive into its watery depths…

"Annie?" a voice called softly.

I turned my head. Finnick stood there. His shoulders sagged and he looked embarrassed, like a little boy asking for permission to have his dessert before his dinner.

Mags came forward and gripped my hand, pulling slightly so I was coming away from my blessed window. I jerked my hand away, and took a step towards it, the beautiful empty freedom calling my name. My eyes darted from the window back to Mags, a question in my mind that my mouth, for some reason, refused to utter. _Can't I just jump into the water?_

"Annie, come away from the window," he said, eyes locked with mine, refusing to allow me to look anywhere else.

I swallowed, desperately wanting to break out of this glass prison and dive into the sea that was right there waiting for me. I took a step backwards and pressed myself against the glass, shaking my head.

His lips parted slightly, then tightened into a thin line. A look of desperation clouded his face, his gaze breaking from mine and turning to Mags.

Now that I was free, I turned to behold the ocean stretching out below me. My throat tightened. It wasn't an ocean—it was a street, busy and dangerous. The height dizzied me, making my knees weak. Stumbling backwards, I reached for the closest thing to me.

Finnick.

I crashed into him, clawing at him, trying to steady both myself and my mind. He gripped me by the shoulders, his arms clumsily wrapped around me. I stared up at him, tears of embarrassment stinging my eyes. "I'm—I—I'm sorry," I choked out. Glancing at Mags, I saw her smile, a kind look in her eyes.

She seemed to say, "I know. We both know. There's no need to be sorry." She came around to the other side of me, wrapping her fragile arms around me.

In the span of a breath, we all sank to the floor, arms tangled up in knots. There we stayed, three Victors, all a bit broken, but, I realized, no longer alone.


	2. Chp 2: Something There

**Finnick's POV:**

I watched Annie. She seemed all right when President Snow crowned her. She stared into space when he spoke, claiming her for her victory, all the while my heart breaking for her.

Now, she sat on the chair opposite Caesar. Her eyes darted across the crowd, to the lights, to the backdrop. Her breathing came rapidly. With trembling hands she covered her ears, then her eyes, rocking herself back and forth in the chair.

Then I realized. Her actions now, and her actions to President Snow, weren't just aftermath from the games. She had been damaged by the games. I knew she was strong, but her strength was not the obvious kind. She was too innocent to be able to accept that she could not have done anything to save her fellow tribute. She was too kind to be able to live whole in the midst of such evil. Anger coursed through me as I strode to the stage. I could save her her innocence at least. I walked directly past the backdrop. The crowd burst with applause when they saw me. I smiled and waved, then came to stand beside Annie.

"Finnick!" Caesar gushed. "Ahhh! The victor of the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games!"

I smiled at the crowd. "Caesar." I shook his hand, his neon lime hair almost blinding me more than the stage-lights.

"Ahh-haaa! Get my friend a chair!"

I sat down in the chair beside Annie. I gently laid my hand on Annie's back and leaned to her covered ear. "Annie?" I whispered.

Annie slowly dropped her hands and looked around as if she had been just been awoken from a dream.

"Annie? Are you all right?" Caesar asked, leaning forward. His eyebrows scrunched in concern that I knew was far from genuine.

She nodded. "Yes, thank you." She gazed at me. With every gaze, every tear, every action and word, lucid or not, I felt Annie Cresta take something from me—then I realized, it was my heart she was stealing, at the same time, putting something else back in its place.

"Caesar, I think Annie is overwhelmed with the Capitol's generosity and praise," I interrupted, quickly grasping Annie's hand and squeezing it encouragingly.

Caesar raised an eyebrow. "Finnick, do I see a relationship here? I think you've just broken the hearts of girls everywhere." He fanned himself with his hand. It took everything in me to keep from vomiting.

I refrained from rolling my eyes, instead smiling at Annie. I knew they had tried in the past to get me involved with someone, so one day, I would marry them. I had always been flirtatious, but my actions and words never went past flirting. The Capitol had manipulated me by turning me into a celebrity, but they would never manipulate me to disgrace others. I looked at Annie. She was so innocent. I shared her innocence in relationships—the one innocence that the Capitol had not taken from me. I realized, I could help her from being used as a tool to further the games. I would run with it. "Well, Caesar, I think that anyone who has a heart loses it when they're with Annie." I saw in Annie's hazel eyes a flicker up to mine, the intensity of her gaze burning like a spark of fire.

"So you aren't together?" Caesar pressed.

I smiled coyly, "Time will tell."

 **Annie's POV:**

I sat in the Tribute Center, my elbows on my knees, my fingers drumming against each other. I wasn't sure what to do. Did Finnick love me? Or was he only protecting me? But why would he bother protecting me, unless he loved me? Had it been purely a kindness, perhaps an act of defiance against the Capitol? The thoughts were pointless, useless, silly. They would never go anywhere, I realized.

"Are you ready to go?" Finnick asked me.

I looked up at him. Nodding, I rose, smoothing my dress as I did. I suddenly couldn't hear anything, or feel anything. I stared as we walked. I didn't even feel my legs move me forward. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my arm. I wrenched away, my vision returning. Finnick stood there, looking puzzled. Then that puzzle, turned to concern.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly, eyes gazing at me softly.

"Yeah." I looked away. "I'm sorry." I offered a less than genuine smile.

Finnick had a skeptical look on his face. I bit the side of my lip, and walked on, the numbness returning to me like a fog. I didn't hear anything happen. I only knew I was suddenly on a train, heading to District Four. I flinched suddenly, then a laugh escaped my lips. It seemed a strange yet relieving reaction.

Mags looked at me, worry etched upon her face, far more deeply than the wrinkles that cut into her tan weathered skin. She gently laid her hand on mine. A fear rose in me. I felt tingly, like I wanted to shed my own skin. Heat washed over me and the urge to run overcame me. I shot up, my legs taking me to my room. I slammed the door behind me, locking it. I climbed on the bed, and curled into a ball. All I wanted was to feel safe. I scooted so my back was against the headboard. I shivered. Embarrassment tugged at me. I felt ashamed.

I rocked myself back and forth, back and forth, waiting for the calm I knew would never come. A knock sounded at my door. I must have fallen asleep. The sun was low, its last rays barely touching the wall. I quietly stood and cracked open the door.

I saw Mags, sadness welling in her eyes along with tears of either empathy or anger. I opened the door further. She sat on my bed and patted beside her. I sat down. She gently pulled me down so my head was in her lap and proceeded to gently stroke my hair. Her touch was so gentle. I felt tears seep from my eyes as I felt exhaustion and then blessed blackness rush over me.

The following morning, when I awoke, Mags was there too. She had stayed with me. I was grateful for her. It was so comforting to have her with me, to have a matriarchal presence in my life during this terrifying ordeal.

She opened her eyes. Love was in them. I kissed her cheek.

"I'm going to eat something," I said. She nodded and followed me, but when I turned back I noticed she did not follow me to the dining car. She detoured when I passed her room.

Finnick sat in the dining car, his ankle resting on his knee, nose buried in a book. He smiled when he saw me, bright blues eyes sparkling at me. "Good morning, Annie," he greeted me. I had always known how enchanting he was, but now he seemed magnetic. I pushed those thoughts away, knowing they were stupid and childish.

I smiled back, trying to be friendly. "Good morning." I looked at my hands, fixing my eyes on my fingers. "I'm sorry for how I acted yesterday." The heat of embarrassment flooded my being, and I knew it was revealed on my cheeks.

"It's okay." When I hazarded a glance at him, I could tell from his eyes that it _was_ okay.

I sat down at the table, not grabbing anything. I knew I should eat, but I wasn't hungry. I was nervous, nervous about the crowd I would meet in District Four. I was excited to see my parents, but I was also scared. What would I do now? I jumped and looked around when I heard a loud noise. My heart was in my throat.

"It's okay," Finnick said, looking at me kindly, "We're just stopping now." He turned his attention back to the book he was reading.

"Oh," I breathed.

He glanced from my empty plate to me. "You should try to eat something."

"I don't want to," I replied quietly, looking at the huge spread of pastries, fruits, and meats glistening on the mahogany table. None of it looked appealing. I felt as though I had eaten so much before the games, then the starvation that persisted within them, my stomach still hadn't adjusted to the whiplash. Besides, it seemed strange to eat in front of him.

He shrugged, but didn't press me, which I was grateful for.

I saw a pile of sugar cubes in the center of the table. I eyed it, the white cubes sparkling in the sunlight. Those were the only things that appealed to me in the least. I reached over and grabbed the silver container. I stuck one in my mouth, crunching on it.

Finnick looked surprised, then a smile broke over his face. "Well, then there are those too."

"You don't like them?"

He smiled. "I do." His lips curved up and he looked like he had something to add.

I frowned. "What is it?"

"It's just sweet." His eyes sparkled with mirth.

I chewed on another one, not really caring how I looked to him. "I don't care."

" _You're_ sweet," he said, as though correcting himself for my misunderstanding him. I wondered what he meant. I wondered if I was reading into his words too much, trying to find something I longed to find…


End file.
